


Regrets and All

by DejaBoo



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dry Humping, Foreplay, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Explicit, Short One Shot, Sibling Incest, Some Humor, featuring Ford's regrettable tattoos, it's hot until it's not, little bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DejaBoo/pseuds/DejaBoo
Summary: He completely trusts Stanley. He wants to show him everything... except that. That wasn’t him, that was one of the many horrible mistakes he had made in his dark, regrettable past. Sure, Stanley was aware of most of his other mistakes. He knew about them, was in many cases even a victim of them, loved him and forgave him despite it all.But this, this he thought was the one hideous mistake he could keep to himself that would never have to be acknowledged by another living soul ever again.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Comments: 22
Kudos: 65





	Regrets and All

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a little less comedic and a little more horny than I had originally intended ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Nothing explicit though cause I can't write smut for shit.  
> I always wanted to explore the scenario of Stan seeing Ford's tattoos for the first time. Yes, tattoosss with an 's'. In the journal, it's plural implying Ford had gotten more than one. It was fun coming up with some of them.  
> Enjoy!

Ford feels dizzy. Any and all coherent thought leaves him. His head is spinning, and it spins and it spins until it’s spiraling out of existence. He can’t think now, he can only feel. He can only feel Stanley. Can only feel his chapped lips locked onto his own, rough and wet and insistent. Can only feel his large hands searching his body, grabbing and caressing his chest, his sides, his back, his thighs. He lets go with one hand for a moment, Ford moans against Stan’s mouth in protest. The hand returns on him shortly, this time running gently through his hair. Stan’s fingers cart through Ford’s thick locks, slowly rising from his neck. Ford moans again now louder and he unconsciously grips the fabric on his brother’s shoulder with need. Stan responds by pushing him down on the bed and positioning himself between his legs.

Then for the first time in what felt like minutes or even hours but was quite possibly only seconds, Stan removes his lips from Ford’s. They both gasp from the sudden break in contact. Stan sits up, catching his breath in harsh pants. Ford mirrors him, leaning back on the pillow that was now under his head. His eyes are still closed, he can feel the perspiration on his brow and on Stan’s shaking palms, his left shaking more than his right, gripping his sides underneath his sweater. Their shuddered gasps begin to slow down, and Ford slowly opens his eyes. As his brother blearily comes into focus before him, he feels almost as if he is waking up from a dream.

Stan is staring straight ahead with half-lidded eyes looking just as dreamily detached as Ford feels. Stan closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath before looking down at his twin. And for a split second, there is a silent yet almost tangible and intense tension as they stare back at one another. The hammering in Ford’s chest is all he can hear. Ford nervously adjusts his glasses that were resting entirely lopsided on his face and that does it.

All tension leaves the air when Stan cracks a smile. He lets out a small chuckle and Ford can’t help smiling back at that wonderfully contagious grin. Stan lets out a few more until he’s having a full on laughing fit and Ford promptly follows suit.

His head feels light and he feels positively giddy. He’d never felt such euphoria before. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, he hadn’t believed it possible to happen outside of his private daydreams and wildest fantasies. He never thought he’d muster the courage, the perhaps self-destructive courage, to take the dive and confess to Stanley. And even if he did, he hadn’t dared entertain the notion that his feelings would be reciprocated.

It was so brazen and far too risky, but in the moment, he really felt that he couldn’t help himself and somehow, somehow...

Stanley felt the same. He wanted him too.

Their laughter slowly starts to die down. Stanley leans down and gently rests his forehead on Ford’s chest still letting a few small chuckles escape him. Ford immediately brings his hands up to Stan’s head running his hands through his hair, then down his neck, to his shoulders where he begins to gently rub them in small circles. Stan revels in the feeling of the twelve-finger massage taking immense comfort in the fact that only Ford could give him one. He wanted to be the only one who had the privilege of feeling Ford’s extra digit's intimate touch.

That thought lights a fire in him and suddenly he needed more. God, he had been waiting so long for this, so many years, decades even, and he just needed Ford to touch him more. He needed to touch Ford more. He needed to feel Ford’s body. He needed to see Ford’s body, his whole body. Nothing obscuring it, he wanted to see all of him.

“Sixer...” his voice comes out raspy and low.

Before Ford can reply, Stanley lifts his head from Ford’s chest and the look in his eyes causes Ford’s words to die in his throat. He swallows thickly under Stan’s intense gaze and the tension that had been in the air before was back in full force in an instant.

“Sixer, Stanford...” he leans closer and his voice quiets to a whisper. He leans forward until his lips are brushing his brother’s chin. Ford shivers and grips Stan’s forearms as Stan drags his mouth along Ford’s jawline as he speaks. “I need you,” he pleads, and Ford feels like fireworks just went off in his head. “I just- fuck, I just need you, Ford.”

‘Yes god, yes, finally,’ Ford thinks with building anticipation. He's already feeling aroused, the familiar ache in his groin makes a pitiful whine escape through his lips. He flushes red at the embarrassing noise he just made, and he reaches his hand up to cover his mouth, but Stanley firmly clutches his wrist before he can make it there. Stan grabs his other wrist and pins them against the bed.

“No,” Stan moves his face up along Ford’s, his nose being tickled by Ford’s sideburns. “No, I-I wanna hear you.”

Stan shifts so he’s straddling his brother’s hips. Ford lets out a desperate groan and thrusts his hips against Stan. God, it had been so long since he had felt this. At least, it had been a long time since he had felt this so intensely and deeply, as if he had the libido of a teenager again. Of all the few and far between sexual encounters in the multiverse he had, with humans and non-humans alike, Stanley was the only person in any dimension that could render him so completely undone like this.

“Stan,” he groans hoarsely as he continues to desperately buck his hips. It feels so good. It feels so good, he could come in his pants right now, just from this. “Stan!”

Stan must be able to tell from the raising pitch of his voice that he’s getting close. He lets out a gruff laugh and that alone almost sends Ford over the edge.

“Woah, woah, easy tiger.”

Ford feverishly thrusts again but instead of being met with the delicious friction that had been there before, now he was met with empty air. He huffs in disappointment and lifts his head to glare at his brother.

“Damnit, Stan. I was-”

“I wanna see you,” he interrupts, gently pushing his forehead against Ford’s until the back of his head is resting on the pillow again. “Just let me- I wanna...” Stan stutters and then pauses, and Ford opens his eyes to see that Stan’s entire face has gone red. Stan opens his eyes now too, but he doesn’t look Ford in the eyes. He looks down where his fingers curl around the hem of Ford’s sweater. “I wanna see you when you...” he trails off too embarrassed to continue, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand.

And Ford can’t stay frustrated with Stan. He smiles thinking how oddly adorable that, despite everything they’ve done, Stan would be suddenly bashful about asking him to undress.

So, he gently grabs Stan’s wrist and gives him an encouraging squeeze as he barely lifts his hand and his shirt along with it. He lets go deciding to let Stan do the rest. Stan quickly glances up at Ford seemingly with some apprehension before swiftly pulling Ford’s sweater up to his collarbone. He doesn’t ask Ford to raise his arms to pull it off, instead, with a sharp intake of breath through his nose, he lets go of it.

With reverence, he runs his rough, calloused hands along his brother’s exposed chest and sides. Ford basks in it; the feeling of Stan’s hands, and the positively worshipful way that Stan is looking at his body. Ford can just feel his brother’s eyes taking him all in, and if it were anyone else it might make him squirm under such scrutinizing gaze, but with Stanley he knew he could allow himself to be completely vulnerable. He wants to show Stanley everything, he wants him to know he completely trusts him.

Ford gasps when Stanley swiftly runs his thumbs over Ford’s nipples, and his mind goes completely blank with nothing but pleasure. Stanley wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks increasingly like he can’t take it anymore. He grips Ford’s sweater once again.

“Raise your arms.” He doesn’t ask so much as he just states.

Stanford begins to raise his arms, his mind swimming in a pleasant haze wanting nothing more than to pleasure and be pleasured by Stanley, but then it hits him, and he remembers.

He **_remembers_**...

“Wait, wait, Stanley wait,” Ford quickly grabs Stanley’s wrists to keep him from pulling his sweater up any farther.

He completely trusts Stanley. He wants to show him everything... except _**that**_. That wasn’t him, that was one of the many horrible mistakes he had made in his dark, regrettable past. Sure, Stanley was aware of most of his other mistakes. He knew about them, was in many cases even a victim of them, loved him and forgave him despite it all.

But this, this he thought was the one hideous mistake he could keep to himself that would never have to be acknowledged by another living soul ever again.

Stanley looks up at him with a questioning look, but upon seeing the seriousness in his brother’s face his expression shifts to alarm.

“Hey, hey,” he says removing his hands and backing off to give Ford space. “If I’m goin’ to fast with this, I can stop. If this is too much-”

“No, no that’s not it,” Ford quickly grabs his hands and tries to smile reassuringly to dispel Stan’s worry. “That’s not it...” Ford rubs the back of Stan’s hands with his thumbs. “I just have these-” No, he doesn’t have to tell him. They can do this without Ford fully removing his clothing. Stanley won’t push him.

Of course he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t push him, just like he’s not pushing him now. He’s not urging Ford to tell him what it is, he’s patiently regarding him. 

“Hey, ya don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna-”

“Tattoos.” He can trust Stan with anything, he can trust Stan with this.

“Huh? Wh-Tattoos?”

The look on Ford’s face and seriousness of his tone worries Stan. It was same look and tone he had when he was talking about a dangerous anomaly.

What kind of tattoos would cause Ford to be so deathly serious? Why wouldn’t he want them to be seen? Were they cursed? Did they have something to do with that dead demon jerk?

“These tattoos... are unequivocally one of my greatest regrets, Stanley. Octopus-armed warrior piglets are incredibly valiant and respectable creatures, but their ability to persuade one in agreeing to permanently marking the body with designs of questionable taste haunts and vexes me.”

“I... I have no idea what that means.”

Ford just sighs and Stan is feeling more lost and bewildered by the second. Ford suddenly drops his hand on Stan’s knee, and he leans close giving him what almost looks like a warning glare.

“Just don’t laugh,” he says darkly.

“What? Why would I-”

Ford reaches for his turtleneck and finishes removing it. He carelessly tosses the discarded article of clothing onto the ground. He looks at Stan with a blush and a deep-set frown on his face and crosses his arms, his very colorful arms...

Stan blinks. A cartoon star stares back at him giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up declaring, ‘Hey now I’m an all-star!’ The bright, neon star on Ford’s neck isn’t alone. Ford’s neck and arms are almost entirely covered in cutesy animals and creatures, all proclaiming similar words of self-encouragement; a unicorn on a skateboard, a narwhal wearing sunglasses, some kind of cat with a toaster pastry for a body with a rainbow trailing behind it. The unicorn assures him, ‘I’m teh best.’ The fact that these alien pigs or whatever got Ford to consent to a grammatically incorrect tattoo might be what’s most baffling to Stan. Designs that looked like they were from Mabel’s sticker collection, sure, but improper spelling, that was hard to believe.

“Wow,” is all Stan says and Ford can’t look at him. “Looks like Mabel’s drawings.”

Ford sighs and face palms with an audible ‘smack.’

“Hey, that’s a compliment! Mabel’s a very talented artist.” he says matter-of-factly.

“I know she is, I know she is,” Ford says while tiredly rubbing his reddening face. “but her drawings are appropriate for pinning onto the fridge, not-not permanently-” He’s looking more and more embarrassed by the second and Stan worries that he’s starting to regret showing him.

“Hey, hey, they’re not that bad,” Stan absolutely lies.

Before Ford can call him out on his bluff, Stan plants a wet kiss on the star on his neck. Ford freezes for a moment, his train of thought coming to an abrupt halt as his twin gently sucks on his skin.

“Stan, I know you’re li-” Ford gasps when Stan’s teeth softly, not at all painfully, graze over the tender skin on his neck. Ford tries to keep quiet as Stan experimentally nips and bites at his skin, noticing how careful he was being to avoid making it hurt.

Ford lifts his hand to the back of Stan’s head to hold him there, but he moves down, peppering kisses and soft bites down to his shoulder, his upper arm, the inside of his elbow, his forearm. Then, once he reaches Ford’s wrist, he moves to his other. Working up this time to his upper arm, his shoulder; and Ford realizes he’s kissing every one of his tattoos.

Ford feels an incredible bubbling up of affection and thinks how foolish it was for him to be so nervous about it in the first place. These tattoos were a ridiculous part of him, but Stan has always accepted and loved every part of him; the ridiculous parts, the flawed parts alike, even though at times some of those parts must be frustrating to deal with. He has nothing to worry about and he’s ready. He’s so ready, he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

Stan comes to a stop, his lips back on the star he had started on and he smiles against Ford’s skin. He could tell that he had riled Ford up from that, his suspicions confirmed when he looks down at the crotch of Ford’s pants.

“They’re fine, Sixer,” Stan says moving up and it takes a minute for Ford to register in his lust filled mind that he’s talking about the tattoos. “They’re fine, but they don’t matter,” Stan says quietly as his face gets closer and his smile gets wider. “‘Cause you’re ‘teh’ best.”

Before Stan can even laugh at his brother’s reaction, Ford grabs his shoulders and roughly pushes him down on the bed and straddles his hips so quickly it takes him off guard. Ford glowers over him, but he can tell that the annoyance is surface level since Ford is quite visibly trying not to smile.

In an attempt to wipe the smug grin off Stan’s face, Ford undoes his own belt buckle, unbuttons and pulls down the zipper of his pants. This only makes Stan’s smile grow wider.

“Show me what’cha got, all-star.” Stan starts to laugh.

Ford silences him with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are the only thing keeping me going in these trying times. Consider leaving one if it's not too much trouble.
> 
> I have a new tumblr as well if you'd like to check it out, I'd appreciate it!: https://dejabooooo.tumblr.com/


End file.
